Poetry from starcrowned tree

Tattooed in the cocoon of heliosphere,

the magnetosphere protect us from most of the solar flare.

The visible light coloring our face to look truth to our next.

Lying, a ridiculous way as the money manipulaters virus words,

the solar vind will blow them of the edge.

We who are in the rainbow bay are singing and ringing in the big bang bell of beauty.

The false teardrops of truth falling on the floor of devilsrock to the virus words end.

B. Balkh